Many of the people I know have tastes in reading (and movies) different from mine. When a neighbor lent us a favorite video, which not something of interest to us, I returned it recently, with thanks. He asked how I liked it.
Suddenly I was faced with the familiar dilemma of making white lies sound like polite social noise. "Very enjoyable," I said. "Well done." (I had not bothered to play it, knowing it was not worth my time.) He went on: "We loved it. Would you like to keep it a white longer?"
I would rather spend an hour in the dentist's chair, but I smiled politely and said something about being busy getting ready for an upcoming trip (the truth).
This prompted me to think of all the times in the past year or so when I have been confronted with familiar situations, in which the devilish side of me wants to be cynical (though I never am), as follows:
1. I routinely say, "how are you?" (Do I really want to know? Do I want an organ recital--what a friend calls chatting with people of a certain age who immediately list their ailments?)
2. "So glad to see you." (I really mean, I hope this chat is brief and less boring than the last one we had OR I was enjoying the quiet time to think before you appeared.)
3. "You look wonderful" (despite the weight gain/wrinkles/age spots/ missing teeth/ thinning hair)
4. At the end of a phone call, I will say, "So glad you called." (Please don't do so for another year or more; in fact, not calling at all would be ideal.)
5. Or if I missed a call, probably because I use an answering machine to screen those who phone us: "Sorry I missed your call." (Actually, I am happy to have had some time to think of a polite way to get out of the invitation you put on my machine; or: I wish you hadn't called at all since I know you always complain about something.)
6. And of course, on receiving a gift, "How thoughtful." (Better than the old "just what I always wanted," which is both sarcastic and trite; yet thinking of me at Christmas is thoughtful, so I should be grateful, but why do you always get things for me that either don't fit or that I don't want? Give me cash!")
Ah, the pain of being polite and feeling guilty for being hypocritical; yet the truth would be worse than the lie, however much fun it might sometimes be for me to be honest.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Friday, October 10, 2014
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
A time for wacky things
Today, after reading several cartoons and an article in the current New Yorker, I found myself in a silly mood, interested in several of the wild and wacky things I have been reading about (or have collected recently).
The cartoon that brought on this delight was a picture of "God" doubting the existence of man. Then I read a tiny notice about a current NYC production of Beckett's Waiting for Godot in Yiddish: absurdity raised to the highest power since hardly anyone speaks Yiddish anymore.
The news, when it's not tragic, is often hilarious.
The cartoon reminded me of a book title from years ago: "Is there life after birth?" And I thought of the student who spelled Judaism on an exam "Judy-ism." This is one of many bloopers that have tickled me.
I have been reading about the Mitford family of English aristocrats and eccentrics, prominent in the 1930s, when the head of the family, Lord Redesdale, to cut down on expenses, did away with napkins at the dinner table. Guests who spilled even a drop of food were loudly attacked by the host as "filthy swine."
The antics of his daughters were often serious: one of them became notorious as Hitler's English girlfriend and shot herself in the head when war broke out in 1939; unfortunately, she lived eight more years, brain damaged. This young woman, Unity Mitford, was conceived in the mining village of Swastika, Ontario. Jessica, one of her sisters, to get even with the Fascists in the family, became a Communist and an American; she (unaware of the inconsistency of a Communist engaging in capitalism) bought a bar in Miami where she and the husband she eloped with in the midst of the Spanish Civil War worked.
Other bits of amusing trivia:
The cartoon that brought on this delight was a picture of "God" doubting the existence of man. Then I read a tiny notice about a current NYC production of Beckett's Waiting for Godot in Yiddish: absurdity raised to the highest power since hardly anyone speaks Yiddish anymore.
The news, when it's not tragic, is often hilarious.
The cartoon reminded me of a book title from years ago: "Is there life after birth?" And I thought of the student who spelled Judaism on an exam "Judy-ism." This is one of many bloopers that have tickled me.
I have been reading about the Mitford family of English aristocrats and eccentrics, prominent in the 1930s, when the head of the family, Lord Redesdale, to cut down on expenses, did away with napkins at the dinner table. Guests who spilled even a drop of food were loudly attacked by the host as "filthy swine."
The antics of his daughters were often serious: one of them became notorious as Hitler's English girlfriend and shot herself in the head when war broke out in 1939; unfortunately, she lived eight more years, brain damaged. This young woman, Unity Mitford, was conceived in the mining village of Swastika, Ontario. Jessica, one of her sisters, to get even with the Fascists in the family, became a Communist and an American; she (unaware of the inconsistency of a Communist engaging in capitalism) bought a bar in Miami where she and the husband she eloped with in the midst of the Spanish Civil War worked.
Other bits of amusing trivia:
- At the funeral of Charles Darwin in Westminster Abbey, the scientist's son, feeling a draft, removed his black gloves and placed them on his bald head, where they remained for the rest of the ceremony. (Only in England)
- I have a friend who is a noted expert on canaries; when he is not judging canary shows, he rides roller coasters in various countries as a member of the American Coaster Society.
- A man from Florida drove 17,000 miles a few years ago to earn a place at the World Duck Calling Contest (considered the Super Bowl of duck calling).
- In Australian slang, a "duck's dinner" is a drink of water with nothing to eat. (That seemed relevant.)
- When a cat named Help was lost, her owner ran down the street calling "Help!" until she got assistance (but no cat, apparently).
- When Alex, an African gray parrot died in 2007, he was given an obituary in newspapers around the world as well as 6,000 messages of condolence sent to his owner, a researcher on the intelligence of birds. Alex had become famous from numerous TV appearances.
Friday, August 15, 2014
The value of silliness
At a time when I have been overwhelmed by sad news--from the depression and suicide of Robin Williams to the racial turmoil in St. Louis to the major crises in the Mideast--I was glad yesterday to have lunch with a friend who reminded me of the importance of comedy and laughter, even silliness.
My friend likes puns and the Three Stooges more than I do. He shares my enthusiasm for silly cat videos and felines dressed up in ridiculous outfits on birthday cards. He shares my interest in funny names of real people, which I collect as an exercise in trivia. And he joins me in presenting programs in our community that involve humor.
One of these, going back to 2005, is Historical Humor and Wit, in which we quote notable people saying ridiculous or witty things, from Mark Twain and Winston Churchill to more recent American politicians. Our theme: history is never dull since it is the story of people who often say wacky things.
The other program I have created is called Fractured English, indebted to people like Richard Lederer, who collect the blunders and bloopers of students, sign makers, editors of church bulletins, among others. The unintentional misuse of our language is a constant delight, and even more valuable for us is hearing a crowded room ripple with laughter when my friend and I take turns reciting some of the many funny or silly things we have unearthed.
My most recent research has been into church-related humor, where the sacred and serious context of religion makes the blooper especially funny. One example from a church bulletin: "The ladies of the church have cast off clothing of all kinds and can be seen in the church basement."
The use of a simple hyphen between 'cast' and 'off' would prevent the misreading, but I am grateful to the person who left it out. Things like this, even cat-related stories, bring a needed smile to my face, reduce tension, and provide some distance from the tragic news of the week.
Human nature cannot bear too much reality, T. S. Eliot wrote. He was thinking of reality in a different context, but the basic idea fits here: we need as much silliness and childish humor as we can handle. Thank God for the people who send me cartoons and jokes via email--and for the puns and other bits of humor, however silly, that feed the soul by keeping us in balance.
My friend likes puns and the Three Stooges more than I do. He shares my enthusiasm for silly cat videos and felines dressed up in ridiculous outfits on birthday cards. He shares my interest in funny names of real people, which I collect as an exercise in trivia. And he joins me in presenting programs in our community that involve humor.
One of these, going back to 2005, is Historical Humor and Wit, in which we quote notable people saying ridiculous or witty things, from Mark Twain and Winston Churchill to more recent American politicians. Our theme: history is never dull since it is the story of people who often say wacky things.
The other program I have created is called Fractured English, indebted to people like Richard Lederer, who collect the blunders and bloopers of students, sign makers, editors of church bulletins, among others. The unintentional misuse of our language is a constant delight, and even more valuable for us is hearing a crowded room ripple with laughter when my friend and I take turns reciting some of the many funny or silly things we have unearthed.
My most recent research has been into church-related humor, where the sacred and serious context of religion makes the blooper especially funny. One example from a church bulletin: "The ladies of the church have cast off clothing of all kinds and can be seen in the church basement."
The use of a simple hyphen between 'cast' and 'off' would prevent the misreading, but I am grateful to the person who left it out. Things like this, even cat-related stories, bring a needed smile to my face, reduce tension, and provide some distance from the tragic news of the week.
Human nature cannot bear too much reality, T. S. Eliot wrote. He was thinking of reality in a different context, but the basic idea fits here: we need as much silliness and childish humor as we can handle. Thank God for the people who send me cartoons and jokes via email--and for the puns and other bits of humor, however silly, that feed the soul by keeping us in balance.
Friday, March 21, 2014
What is Humor?
The joke died c. 1961, according to Scott Weems in his new book on why people laugh: Ha! Or at least it got permanently injured. This news will come as a surprise to many, including my friends who email me funny anecdotes regularly, things they call jokes.
What Weems and others who have written obituaries for the joke have in mind is the emergence of Lenny Bruce, Richard Prior and other stand-up comics in the sixties who veered from the standard one-liners to amusing stories, many based on their own experiences.
Weems, a neuroscientist, writes engagingly for the general audience about his theory of humor, a subject that has intrigued major thinkers from Aristotle to Freud and Bergson. For Weems, interested in the surprise element in humor, what is funny arises from an inner conflict in the brain, part of a desire to understand the complexities of the world.
When we take pleasure in the confusion of a complex question, he says, we find the joy of humor. A bored mind is humorless. And, as most people know, humor and wit are related to intelligence.
He finds that the brain relies on conflict and that the rigorous exercise of the mind involved in sorting out a world filled with turmoil is healthy for the mind just as laughter is healthy for the body.
I sense in this book another example of an author who has one dominant idea and who could have written a long, entertaining article in The New Yorker, for example; instead, like most authors, he wants the prestige and possible income of the book, even if most of the chapters that follow the introduction mainly provide examples of his thesis.
There are times when Weems' emphasis on humor as a natural response to complexity sounds familiar, like the old theory of absurdity or incongruity that I presented to my students more than thirty years ago.
Still his book has great appeal because of its topic. Most people wonder about the relation between humor and human nature, why humans laugh and animals do not. What's more, April Fools' Day is just around the corner.
What Weems and others who have written obituaries for the joke have in mind is the emergence of Lenny Bruce, Richard Prior and other stand-up comics in the sixties who veered from the standard one-liners to amusing stories, many based on their own experiences.
Weems, a neuroscientist, writes engagingly for the general audience about his theory of humor, a subject that has intrigued major thinkers from Aristotle to Freud and Bergson. For Weems, interested in the surprise element in humor, what is funny arises from an inner conflict in the brain, part of a desire to understand the complexities of the world.
When we take pleasure in the confusion of a complex question, he says, we find the joy of humor. A bored mind is humorless. And, as most people know, humor and wit are related to intelligence.
He finds that the brain relies on conflict and that the rigorous exercise of the mind involved in sorting out a world filled with turmoil is healthy for the mind just as laughter is healthy for the body.
I sense in this book another example of an author who has one dominant idea and who could have written a long, entertaining article in The New Yorker, for example; instead, like most authors, he wants the prestige and possible income of the book, even if most of the chapters that follow the introduction mainly provide examples of his thesis.
There are times when Weems' emphasis on humor as a natural response to complexity sounds familiar, like the old theory of absurdity or incongruity that I presented to my students more than thirty years ago.
Still his book has great appeal because of its topic. Most people wonder about the relation between humor and human nature, why humans laugh and animals do not. What's more, April Fools' Day is just around the corner.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
A Good Man
This week, June 3 marked the 50th anniversary of the death of Pope John XXIII, a man of remarkable humor and humility who once remarked, "Anyone can be pope. I am the best proof of that." Despite the honors heaped upon him, he never took himself too seriously or forgot that he was the son of a poor sharecropper.
"I am not a good looking pope--just look at my ears--but you will get along with me." He was old and fat and unpromising at the time of his election in 1958 at age 78; yet, in barely five years, the changed the Catholic church and the relation of the church with the world. He began the Second Vatican Council, which came as surprise to many who expected the former Angelo Cardinal Roncalli to be a caretaker until someone better came along. And he endeared himself to millions.
Like Pope Francis, he loved people and shunned pomp--not easy at the Vatican with its entrenched traditions. He walked the city streets, picking up the nickname Johnny Walker, and visited a Rome jail because the inmates could not come to see him.
About ancient traditions, he said: "Tradition means 'protect the fire,' not 'preserve the ashes'." About reform, he believed in taking things step by step: "See everything. Overlook much. Correct a little."
He had a positive rather than judgmental attitude toward people and was a good pastor in Venice. Before that, in Paris as the nuncio after the war, he encountered a workman who had just hit his thumb and was cursing, calling upon God to damn everyone imaginable. Roncalli stopped him, smiled and said: "Why don't you just say 'shit' like everyone else?"
That anecdote speaks volumes about the man.
"I am not a good looking pope--just look at my ears--but you will get along with me." He was old and fat and unpromising at the time of his election in 1958 at age 78; yet, in barely five years, the changed the Catholic church and the relation of the church with the world. He began the Second Vatican Council, which came as surprise to many who expected the former Angelo Cardinal Roncalli to be a caretaker until someone better came along. And he endeared himself to millions.
Like Pope Francis, he loved people and shunned pomp--not easy at the Vatican with its entrenched traditions. He walked the city streets, picking up the nickname Johnny Walker, and visited a Rome jail because the inmates could not come to see him.
About ancient traditions, he said: "Tradition means 'protect the fire,' not 'preserve the ashes'." About reform, he believed in taking things step by step: "See everything. Overlook much. Correct a little."
He had a positive rather than judgmental attitude toward people and was a good pastor in Venice. Before that, in Paris as the nuncio after the war, he encountered a workman who had just hit his thumb and was cursing, calling upon God to damn everyone imaginable. Roncalli stopped him, smiled and said: "Why don't you just say 'shit' like everyone else?"
That anecdote speaks volumes about the man.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
In defense of puns
Puns are often considered the lowest form of humor, but anyone reading John Pollack' engaging book, The Pun Also Rises, as I have just done, would have to argue with this oversimplification.
If you have a hard time imagining an entire book of 200-plus pages about puns, imagine instead an enjoyable tour through linguistic history in which the work of scholars and experts is presented with down-to-earth, often amusing clarity. This is not a book of puns.
Pollack shows that for thousands of years, the pun enjoyed a privileged place in Western history, art and religion: the Bible uses puns (lost to us in translation; Jesus used them to make a point, not to be funny). Cicero and the ancients valued them, Chaucer and Shakespeare had great fun with them.
So what happened? The so-called Enlightenment, the age of reason in which ambiguity, that playful awareness of multiple meanings, was frowned on and the pun was considered silly, at least in English literary circles. But in the new U.S., Ben Franklin and other founding fathers did not have such a bias against the venerable play on words. The very fact that the British at the time considered punning low humor made it all the more delightful for the rebellious colonists over here.
And so it goes in this enlightening overview of language and the importance of ambiguity. Without puns, how would advertisers, crossword puzzle makers, some songwriters and pundits like Maureen Dowd, greeting card creators, and headline editors get along? They provide smiles at least, if not belly laughs. We enjoy wordplay more than we let on.
And as to the groans that puns often seem to elicit, Pollack has sensible things to say. We react to puns and other types of wordplay with a variety of responses since simple puns make complex demands on the brain. Pollack has done his homework in cognitive linguistics.
Every language, he says, seems to have had a place for wordplay, even the ancient Egyptians. This raises the key question: is there something about punning that is basic to language itself?
Pollack believes that intentional punning "laid the foundation for alphabetic writing as we know it." This in turn made possible the accumulation of knowledge and the modern world: wow! It all began with a pun!
His reasoning: the human capacity to connect widely divergent ideas (two words having similar sounds, for example, but totally different meanings) enabled people over thousands of generations to construct systems of language that enabled man to move from the cave and the drum to the telegraph and the iPhone. Sound too simple? See what he says for yourself.
This is a wonderful book, full of humor and insight, making complex issues accessible to the general reader, and raising questions about the mind, about the human need to remain alert and nimble in an ever-changing world. That, in a word, is the function of the not-so-simple pun.
If you have a hard time imagining an entire book of 200-plus pages about puns, imagine instead an enjoyable tour through linguistic history in which the work of scholars and experts is presented with down-to-earth, often amusing clarity. This is not a book of puns.
Pollack shows that for thousands of years, the pun enjoyed a privileged place in Western history, art and religion: the Bible uses puns (lost to us in translation; Jesus used them to make a point, not to be funny). Cicero and the ancients valued them, Chaucer and Shakespeare had great fun with them.
So what happened? The so-called Enlightenment, the age of reason in which ambiguity, that playful awareness of multiple meanings, was frowned on and the pun was considered silly, at least in English literary circles. But in the new U.S., Ben Franklin and other founding fathers did not have such a bias against the venerable play on words. The very fact that the British at the time considered punning low humor made it all the more delightful for the rebellious colonists over here.
And so it goes in this enlightening overview of language and the importance of ambiguity. Without puns, how would advertisers, crossword puzzle makers, some songwriters and pundits like Maureen Dowd, greeting card creators, and headline editors get along? They provide smiles at least, if not belly laughs. We enjoy wordplay more than we let on.
And as to the groans that puns often seem to elicit, Pollack has sensible things to say. We react to puns and other types of wordplay with a variety of responses since simple puns make complex demands on the brain. Pollack has done his homework in cognitive linguistics.
Every language, he says, seems to have had a place for wordplay, even the ancient Egyptians. This raises the key question: is there something about punning that is basic to language itself?
Pollack believes that intentional punning "laid the foundation for alphabetic writing as we know it." This in turn made possible the accumulation of knowledge and the modern world: wow! It all began with a pun!
His reasoning: the human capacity to connect widely divergent ideas (two words having similar sounds, for example, but totally different meanings) enabled people over thousands of generations to construct systems of language that enabled man to move from the cave and the drum to the telegraph and the iPhone. Sound too simple? See what he says for yourself.
This is a wonderful book, full of humor and insight, making complex issues accessible to the general reader, and raising questions about the mind, about the human need to remain alert and nimble in an ever-changing world. That, in a word, is the function of the not-so-simple pun.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Waking Up Dead
In preparing for two comedy presentations in October, I find that I am laughing out loud, even at material I have read before--a healthy thing to do. I hope our audience is equally amused. . . .Especially by the program called "Fractured English," a collection of amazing, often hilarious blunders and bloopers from students and many others: sign makers, printers of menus, hotel owners, newspaper editors, and more. . . . Even from the medical world, reminding me of Mark Twain's quip: Be careful of a book giving health advice. You might die of a misprint. . . . Thanks to Richard Lederer and his great books (Anguished English), as well as the internet, I have unearthed a few bloopers from the medical profession. My favorites from doctors' files: "The patient refused an autopsy." Another(from coroner's report): "Patient went to bed well but woke up dead. Cause of death unknown, had never been fatally ill before.". . . . I don't think such things can be fabricated. . . . Like everyone else, I have made many typos (not, as one student wrote in a recent email, "Type-O's") but none are funny enough to share. . . .In the days I had many papers to grade, I would be grateful for any glimmer of humor in a student essay or exam....Like the student (not mine) who thought Michelangelo had painted sixteen chapels in the Vatican; as if lying on his back for years to paint the Sistine Chapel was not enough! . . . . A Facebook group, formed by Sharon Nichols, has many followers, I am glad to say, concerned enough about careless editing to take pictures of signs and other public displays of mistaken English: my favorite sign from this group: "Please knock. Buzzard is not working.".....If I start listing the bloopers made by politicians in the past 50 years, I will be writing all night......Suffice it to say that our language easily lends itself to errors and that we can get a much-needed laugh from the innocent errors of others without ridiculing the person. "To err is human..." Of course, I could connect this to the point of a recent post: hurrying is the cause of much carelessness and confusion.
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